Blog: bdsm

Friday, 19 March 2010

This is a picture I took of my “cuck boxes”. For those who are unaware- these are boxes full of a collection I keep of mementos from all of my cuckings. Well, almost all- there have been a few times where he couldn’t bring anything home for me for whatever reason, and in the cases of “repeat cuckings”, I don’t always have something for every single time. But mostly, it’s complete. The boxes hold everything from used condoms and wrappers, to soda cans, swiped cds, hair ties, necklaces, cell phone pics, audio recordings etc. Everything is labled with a date and a name. It is my way of cataloging my humiliation (well… and this blog lol). I started it on my second cucking, while he was out fucking her and I was home alone feeling apprehensive and at a loss for what to do. While he was gone, I got the first box prepared and decorated. Anyway, I just thought you all might find it interesting, weird, cool, disturbing… whatever. I suppose it is all of those. I need to go take a shower, but later I will update the blog on Steve’s time earlier with J. Tonight he is having K over here at 11. Eek! That bitch is going to be in the house!!!

Our evening got rolling at around 10:30 pm when the perky, little 18 year old clerk arrived at our home. We will call her “with a Y”. Steve fucked her twice in the living room while I stayed closed away in our bedroom with a vibrator and my thoughts. Within a half hour I was hearing her moans and due to an inadvertent vibrator accident, she was hearing what could practically have been mistaken for a chainsaw- were she not aware of exactly where I was and what I was doing. I knew the second the damn thing revved that I had been heard- it could not have possibly been missed. I felt my cheeks redden in humiliation, and as one lone tear slid down the right side of my face, I came hard. An hour and a half later when I awoke from my adderall-tinted-speed-nap she was still out there, having stayed for round two with Steve. She finally left around 1 am.

For the past couple of hours, Steve, Heidi & I have been plotting and planning an encounter that we all know will wreck my mind. My old nemesis, “K” (ironically, a manager at the same store that the clerk came from) will be getting an unexpected visit soon from Steve. The intensely hateful, bitchy cunt who is 15 years my senior will be sucking him off on her knees in the backroom of the store shortly… she just does not yet know she is on the menu of my adored preditor. Understand readers that this woman and him have had an adversarial relationship (at it’s kindest) that has spanned nearly a year and a half. She hates him, but can’t help wanting to fuck him despite the way he has treated her which is with about the same concern, care, and appreciation as a used condom found on the city street. He hates her back, but their chemistry is immeasurable and and she comes with the added bonus of being extremely distressing to me due to the fact that I know, because he has told me, and she knows because he has told her- that despite her years on me, her cunt is distinctively tighter and more pleasurable to him than mine and the woman fucks like a crazed maniac, which actually she kind of is… but that’s beside the point.

So, he has just left the house to go take back what he discarded last May like a snotty tissue. She has been wanting him back for months and tonight is her night. Except for one thing… she adamently does not suck cock… but tonight she will get on her knees and take a face fucking if she wants to crawl back into his good graces. He has taken with him one of my thank you cards, for this special occasion… partly to make her status as “prey” well noted. This is no accident, no chance encounter. Tonight she is the hunted.

Myself… well, I am the forsaken. I am the cuckquean. I am the pathetic Bitch, left home with a hot cunt and “do not touch” instructions. When he comes back, I will be allowed to play with Heidi who will tear apart what precious little self worth I have left on this night, at 3 am. Twice cucked, but not fucked. For in times like these, even my mouth is useless to him… the only thing I have to offer is my pain. That will become his next hard-on which I gather will be used later around lunch time. He intimates that he has a date, but I have not been told with who, or where. I also have not asked, and won’t. But that’s later.

Now, I wait for him to return so I can hurt for him as he tells me how he shot his load in her mouth, or in her face and Heidi reminds me of what a failure I am because I cannot get him going. Not in times like these. I cannot get him off… I am therefore unworthy of any consideration on his part to schedule fucking me into his day’s plans. I am the inferior and he will make sure I know that to the deepest parts of my heart over the next 3 days. Come Sunday night, I will be lucky if I’m not sobbing and in an emotional shock from the sheer brutality of the hard core cucking I am receiving.

Oh. And, by the way. I think he is cheating on me too. I have begun to think this is all a diversion from the real ouchie. Smoke and mirrors- redirection of the eye. But though I suspect that- I am still too fucking gullible, and too fucking easily distracted by my own cunt to catch him. He truly has a free pass for life. I could never stop him, because fuck- I could never even manage to catch him if he didn’t choose to tell me. Once a cheater, always a cheater. So true.

Wednesday, 17 March 2010

Last night was peaceful and relaxed; we had a nice family dinner, our older children willingly shared the details of their day with us, our three-year old twins played with the dogs while laughing happily - and in the middle of all this magic our oldest son, who is away at college, actually called his family … Evening Perfection.

Later, after reading bedtime stories to my twins, I decided that a bubble bath was in order. P was in his office working and the house was quiet and calm – the evening had made me reflective and the quiet stillness in the house lent itself to contemplation and relaxation. I was well inside myself when I became aware that P had joined me in the bubbles. Without speaking a word he gently washed my hair and then pulled me back so I was resting against his chest; we sat like that for a long, long time …

Finally, when we had exhausted all of the hot water, he got out of the tub and offered his hand to help me do the same – then he wrapped me in a towel and carried me to our bed … a dreamy and romantic moment that was the ultimate capstone to the evening that had been.

I didn’t notice the hairbrush until it was in his hand … and this put an abrupt end to my silent reverie.

I wanted the spanking, desperately, but I was afraid too. Not of the brush and the pain, that isn’t how masochism works; I was afraid that P would be unable to please me (hurt me enough) and that my disappointment would show, this causing him immeasurable emotional torment and undoing months of healing …

When I started to say, “just make love to me, you don’t have to hurt me – I want you even without the pain,” he held up his hand to silence me – a first. And I actually kept myself from speaking further - another first.

What followed was the hardest spanking he has ever given me. He ignored my cries, my pleas, and even my tears. And when it was over, he held me for several long minutes – gently stroking my hair and whispering how much he loves me … and then he took me - without even stopping to consider that I might not want him inside of me.

This morning it all seems like a dream, like it happened to someone else. But I’m happy and calm so I know I must have been there …

We fell asleep without talking, and this morning was hectic so I didn’t have the chance to say anything but, “Thank you for last night.” This got me a smile, a kiss on the cheek, and a gentle pat to my very tender bottom as he walked out the door for work …

But knowing P as I do, knowing who he is and where he’s from, I also know that last night couldn’t have been easy for him. And through my happiness I find myself very concerned with his emotional state of being as he goes about the business of the morning while remembering the events of last night …

I don’t want to change him. I don’t want him ever to be something or someone he is not …

This was the first time either of us had a chance to enjoy a cage, and it was beyond any expectations we might have had before. I met the host in the other room, and he was happy to give me a tour of his place. I think he pointed to some handmade furniture before saying the word “cage,” but “cage” is really all we heard him say. I looked at you with a smile. You were wide-eyed with curiosity, and beaming with delight, as we walked from one room to the next. My eyes then locked onto the white metal gate behind which was enough space for someone of any height to stand comfortably. The host opened the latch of the cage door, and stepped out of the way.

As if some internal force had compelled you to move from my side to within the cage, immediately, you slipped off your shoes, and before I realized what had happened, you were inside, and I was latching the gate closed behind you. Your eyes were fixed onto me at all times, as if your gaze were an emotional tether. Yet with a blink, your expression became one of utter submission, eyes cast downward. A slight shudder revealed your feeling of being on display for all to see. You were removed from the rest of us, isolated within the confines of the bars and wood. The girl in the cage. The featured exhibit. It seemed to suit you profoundly, for it touched my heart and fulfilled what was certainly a frequently discussed fantasy of mine. Openly and proudly, here you were, displayed as the girl who belongs to Me.

I believe people were occupying the bed and the bench in two of the corners of the room, but I didn’t take much notice of them before. Once you were in your place, I visually examined our surroundings. To my right through an open door was a plain tiled bathroom with two sinks. The entire wall to the left of the cage was likely enclosing shelves full of sadistic and sensual toys of all kinds. Past that, was a low couch presently occupied by three people, limbs intertwined, bruised, marked and glowing from whatever was their intense activity that transpired just before. In the corner opposite where we were was a bed with a dark bedspread over it. And in the corner near the door where we came in was a cross, an “X” of thick wood, with cuffs dangling from each extension.

“Daddy?” I turned to you when you spoke, and smiled into your big eyes. You tipped your head forward in the most precious way, making your eyes look bigger yet. I brushed hair from your face and put it behind your ear delicately, while you peered out from behind your blonde bangs. I melt when I hear the affectionate name you use for me, so I always do whatever I can to encourage you to stay in your “babygirl” headspace. When you knew by my expression that you had my attention, you asked permission to speak.

“What is it, babygirl?”

In a whisper, you spoke sweetly. “Daddy, some guests at the party came over to the cage and suggested that I had far too many clothes on. One nice Miss said my beautiful breasts and nipples should be on display, for everyone to see.” But even while I listened, I was already reaching into the cage, and began to unzip your sweater.

I said nothing. You knew already, and without hesitation you finished unzipping your short sweater, exposing the tops of your huge mounds, barely contained in your bra. I had one arm in the cage, my fingers probing and squeezing your luscious breasts, one then the other. I slipped my fingers over the material and started to pull it down. I began to ask you how you felt about it, but your hand was pulling down the other side of your top already, and both your breasts burst forward as if to escape to freedom. With both bare breasts hanging voluptuously in front of me, you were safe, behind the metal bars, and mine were the only hands that reached through. I had been looking fixedly into your eyes until you drifted into the comfort of your subspace, and shut them. I manipulated your nipples until they each stood at attention, and rubbed them, pinching each of them, squeezing progressively harder until I got a gasp out of you each time. Then squeezed your fleshy tits roughly with both hands like I was kneading dough, and you grimaced slightly, silently, without protest and kept your eyes closed.

I felt possessive. I smiled at others who stepped up to talk with me. Only then did I stop squeezing your tits, but I kept one hand gently busy with your nipples as I visited with admirers. People were trickling into the room to see how the new kinksters were doing, and they found us here at the cage in our own little world. Later, I asked you about your liberating moments in the cage. “I didn’t feel ashamed or embarrassed, at all!” you said brightly. “In fact, I really did feel liberated. I felt magnificent inside! I felt I was in a place of complete and utter submission. Although I was in a room full of strangers, and fully on display, I felt safe. I felt good. I knew Daddy was there to protect me.”

Another admiring Dom at the party had with him a black and orange plastic shock toy that he was touching with his hand, making sparks and snapping sounds. He walked up and told me it was a Japanese party favor and I believed him. I don’t care where it came from, I wanted one for myself just as soon as I could find one. He was watching you in your cage, with a slight smile, and asked me if he could shock you with this new toy. Hearing this, your eyes opened with a somewhat nervous expression, but after getting a look at what we were talking about, you averted your eyes downwards and looked like you were trying to retreat, and become small. I quite liked the idea, so I told him to touch my forearm with the toy, and it shocked me. Then I took it from him and tried it for myself, touching the back of my hand with it. I enjoyed it, I smiled, and I saw you looking bashfully up at me while I made it snap against my own skin. You watched me and appeared to become comfortable that the toy was in my hands. Noticing this, it prompted me to turn to say loud enough for you to hear, handing the toy back, “Go ahead. Use it on her. Not on the face though.”

You chirped in shock, just at the thought of someone else touching you with that. I was enjoying your reaction, but I made sure to catch your eyes with mine, and you knew what I wanted. “Babygirl, this is Andrew. Be a good girl and let him play.” I stepped back without waiting for a response, and he took his place just outside the cage, reaching inside toward you with the toy. There you stood, helplessly, and suddenly you were shocked with a snap. First on your arm, just for you to feel the sensation. But next, he touched the flesh of your tit with it, and waited just a moment, and then touched your nipple. I laughed silently when you popped up with a chirp.

I watched you stand in your cage obediently enduring the shocks a few times, but I became aroused from watching and so I pressed up to the cage and retrieved the toy from the Dom. I enjoyed the reaction I got when I tapped it to your skin and a spark snapped out to you. I repeated this along your stomach and your ribs, and frequently on your tits, but the real joy was when I touched your nipple with it and you let out a screech!

I gave you a rest, and turned to chat with the Dom for a little while and drifted into the middle of the room away from the cage, where you were collecting admirers and conversations. One boy stopped by and took quite an interest in you through the cage. I saw you shift as he kept staring at your breasts, but he was being very polite. In a moment, he came up to me because you asked him to get my attention, and I moved back over to you. “Daddy?” you whispered, “Daddy, I beg you, please may I get out now?” I touched your head and asked why. “Daddy I’m having trouble breathing, and I’m getting so hot and dizzy.” I smiled at you, knowing your limit, and opened the latch and held your hand tightly as you stepped out of the confined place, now free once again.

“What a good girl you are.” Hugging, I kissed your head as you clung to me. Keeping my tight embrace with an arm, I reached for a misty bottle of water and wet your forehead with the cool condensation, then I opened it to offer you a sip. We stood there a long time embracing. “Shhh, babygirl. Everything’s going to be okay. You are with Daddy, and you’re in the perfect place, right here where you belong.” It felt good as you squeezed tighter than before, and I knew that our bond had grown closer from the experience.

I can’t really know how long we stood there outside the cage. But eventually, we inched toward the door, and joined the group in the next room. A girl was getting spanked, and it looked like she had been hooked to the wall for quite a while, judging by how purple her ass was getting. “What nice stripes on her, babygirl!” I said to you with a tone you understood well, and wrapping your arms around my waist tightly, you pushed your face into my chest to hide from the idea.

Wednesday, 10 March 2010

Comic-Con girls, they are a Thing from Way Back. Coupla O.G.’s right here! Love it!

Via comically vintage on the tumblr, originally posted by Geek Orthodox on the blogger.

Dig that mask on Superman. I’m feeling this. You?

I’ve not been much great shakes at posting lately. Sorry. Events of the past five or six days have been consuming and this week I’ve had a lot on my mindgrapes. Setting off soosh bombasticos with Panda tonight at Miki. Catch you on the flip!

It must be getting closer to May. Hardly a day passes without another shower of paper in the Robert Wone Case.

On Monday things got off to a big, fat 172-page start with the defense’s motion to compel outstanding discovery. If it seems like we’ve been here before, that’s because we have.

True to past form, the defendant’s main complaint is again that the government has not complied with court orders to produce discoverable material to the defense. Their concerns are many.

To start, they are concerned about that hair and fiber analysis done by the government’s expert Douglas Deedrick, and that they don’t have his methodology so as to be able to challenge it.

On the finger print issue, they claim that an unidentified palm print was found in the room where Robert’s body was discovered by the defendants. They want to know where it was found in the room, and testing that was done on it. They have requested this information on numerous occasions. It gets interesting here because the defense is claiming the government said it did not belong to the defendants or Robert Wone. However, the government says in its own filing that defendant Victor Zaborsky can not be ruled out.

More compelling reading, after the jump.

The defense also wants to know the status of the remainder of the biological samples such as heart blood, urine, bile, vitreous, liver, brain and gastric samples.

They’re particularly harsh on the government’s treatment of the radio runs, and they claim that prosecution reluctance on this particular item is “contrary’ to the established practice of the United States Attorney’s office. The radio runs include communications of the EMT’s who transported Robert’s body to George Washington hospital. They are important to the case because if it is disclosed that Robert was subjected to life saving interventions then this could offer a medical explanation for the puncture wounds.

We also learn that the defense has not seen the unredacted portion of notes from one of the police officer’s on scene. The officer in question appears to be Diane Durham, who surprisingly heard a different story from Joe about where Robert’s body was found.

Most interestingly, we learn that in 2007 Detectives Bryan Waid and Danny Whalen went to the Swann Street residence and talked to Dylan Ward without counsel present. The defense is demanding any notes from that discussion be turned over.

On Tuesday, the government shot back with an 85 page filing articulating why they are opposed to turning over further discovery, chiefly of which is that they have met all their obligations pursuant to Rule 16 (a) (1) (E).

Then they filed an additional discovery document, maybe because they didn’t want to get on the bad side of Judge Lynn Liebowitz at Friday’s status hearing.

It filled out many of the questions that defendants were requesting about expert witness disclosures. They intend to have Dr. John Yosaitis testify about succinyolcholine and IM injections. Even though nothing has been found yet, it looks like the government is pushing forward on the paralytic drug angle through expert testimony.

Another interesting tidbit is James Plant, the government’s S&M expert. While not exactly possessing a C.V. in bondage, we learn that Plant has led many S&M groups, has extensive experience with S&M practices and has attended many popular S&M events such as DC’s Mid-Atlantic Leather weekend.

They also disclose that they intend to introduce photographs of “certain defendants” using the S&M apparatus to show their familiarity with the tools of the trade. Not just one or two photos, but upward of 23. No wonder they need Mr. Plant’s services.

Let’s hope nobody’s hair was messed up when these photos were taken. We wouldn’t want anyone to get a bad impression.